


Gone to the Wolves

by HistoryNicole



Series: Tales of Magic, Mishaps and Misfortunes [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: An Attempt at Action, Attempt at Humor, But There is Some Gore, Gen, Get Ready For A Whole Lot of Jokes and Dark Stuff™, Headaches & Migraines, How Do I Tag, I Only tagged The Major Characters, I'm Bad At Tagging, Like It's Not Major Major, Mild Gore, Or Well Injury, So Good Luck With That!, Swearing, Werewolves, anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoryNicole/pseuds/HistoryNicole
Summary: A mild headache soon transforms into something monstrous, leaving a path of chaos and destruction, but sure, three guys who play DnD can fix this without any issues, right?





	Gone to the Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Just a Quick Author's Note: I did change some of the names of characters (Mostly minor ones), so if you want me to clarify who's who, just let me know. Please enjoy Gone to the Wolves Or: Three Bros, Chilling in a Forcefield, 5 Feet Apart Cause They Wanna Live!

Even in the rainy spring morning, the city of Bucharest is bustling nonetheless. The background noise of the city and the rain emits from the nearby window in the rented-out hotel conference room, giving Hungary a tiny sliver of solace from a massive headache she has and the massive headaches who are sitting next to her.

She knows that Romania _certainly_ has a distaste of her, the feeling is _quite_ mutual, actually, and he knows the _exact_ ways to make her irritable beyond belief. So of course as the ‘host’ of the General Assembly, he situated her by the only people who could piss her off more than Romania himself. Austria could be more bearable—

“—I'm just saying that maybe this would be over if you would just stop being such a stuck-up tight ass.”

—if Prussia wasn't provoking the living hell out of Austria.

“Well then,” Austria says, clearing his throat, “At least this shows how I'm the bigger person in this situation.”

“Or you stoop down to his level,” Hungary mumbles to herself, hitting her head off the table a few times. The two arguing hardly notice, Probably engrossed in their twelfth argument this month, she thinks to herself. This isn’t out of the ordinary. In fact, she’s more surprised that she hasn’t seen someone decked in the face yet.

That smug bastard, Hungary thinks, looking in the direction of Romania. He notices her and gives her a smirk, to which she proceeds to flip him off. The smirk soon fades from his face, as he turns his attention to Germany.

Reclining back into the swivel chair, Hungary wonders how she’s going to get back at him for this. It’s at this time she gives an exasperating sigh. Apparently, someone overhears her sigh, as she hears someone else ask “What's up with you?”

She turns around seeing Denmark leaning over. Suddenly, a flash of anger overcomes her, as she snaps back, “As if you would care.”

“Oh?” He starts, chuckling a bit. “Well someone has a little bark to her bite. What, are the—”

Hungary immediately figures out what he's about to say, and proceeds to get up and grab him by the collar of his jacket. Looking him directly in the eyes, she says, “If you dare say anything about communists or fun houses I will personally do something to you that will fuck you up. Now, I'm not going to say what I’ll do, but I won't promise you'll ever recover.”

She proceeds to push him back as Denmark trips over himself in shock. Sitting back down, she turns back to where she originally was, noticing it’s _quieter_ than before. Glancing to her left, she sees Austria almost in a state of shock. Meekly, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” she says, the words dripping from her mouth with vile disdain. Laughter comes from Hungary’s right, trying to contain itself. With a single glare, the laughter falls silent as mutual conversations around the conference hall take its place.

 

* * *

The first three hours of the meeting seem to go on, and on, and on. One minute dragging into the next. Monotonous voices, devoid of any energy, trying to give out their country's current events and plans for the future. The lackluster event could lull anyone who didn't have a form of caffeine to sleep.

Eventually, a glimpse of hope fills the hall, as Germany asks if anyone has any questions after he finishes speaking. Almost immediately, America’s hand bolts up.

“Yes, the Representative of the United States of America,” Germany says, acknowledging him.

“Uh, yeah, I have two questions, is that fine?” America asks into the microphone, causing slight feedback.

“Yes, please proceed.”

“Cool, so the first thing is, do we _have_ to do the ‘representative’ thing, like, is it mandatory?”

With a sigh, Germany responds, “Due to the fact that we voted and agreed to implement the official representative titles last month, I would believe that the answer to that is yes.”

“Alright, and the second thing is a kind of question and just something I noticed, but we went over time, so could we have an extra thirty minutes of the lunch break as a way to reconcile, if you will?”

Glancing down at his watch, Germany turns over to Romania, who gives a brief nod.

“Yes,” Romania states, “there will be an extra thirty minutes added. And if no one else has any questions, we can vote to end the first half of the meeting. All those in favor of ending the first half of the meeting say ‘Aye’.”

What could be considered the majority all say “Aye.”

“Those opposed?” The room is silent in anticipation. “Alright then, the first part of the April 2017 General Assembly is adjourned.”

The conference hall easily clears out most of the countries, with only a handful left. One of those being Hungary, as she slowly packs her items, dreading having to go into the rain. If it was just a drizzle, it could have been fine, but as the hours drove on, it went into a full on downpour. It also didn't help that she'd forgotten her umbrella earlier this day. She’s just about to leave, when a familiar voice calls out, “Erz!”

Sitting a few feet away from the exit is Poland, with almost an ever-present sly smile. He simply asks “How's it going?”

“Heh, not the best,” Hungary says, adjusting her jacket.

He gestures over to one of the empty seats next to him. “Mind sitting down and talking about it?”

“Well,” she moves closer to him, “you are one of the people I trust the most.”

Poland briefly clutches his heart, “Erz, that's so sweet of you, I could almost throw up!”

She finally sits down. “Ha ha, very funny Fel.”

“But for real, what's up with you?” Poland asks, almost dropping the joking tone the two of them usually have.

“Nothing really, I guess.”

“Erzébet, I hope you realize that I can tell when you're lying. You certainly aren't the best at it.”

With a sigh, she continues, “I guess I just, I don't know, let my emotions get the better of me. I'm guessing you already know, huh?”

“Let's just say,” he alludes to the mini flag in front of her and besides her, blue & yellow and red & white respectively, “the news travels fast.”

“Okay, so I let my anger take control for a moment, is that so bad?”

“If it was something like painting, not scaring the shit out of someone, who knows.”

“Are you saying that trying to scare the shit out of Denmark isn't an art of itself?”

A snort comes from Poland. Hungary lifts her hand up as he high-fives it. He continues. “Alright, you got me there. Not to sound like a therapist or whatever, but is there a root issue that's causing this?”

“Could I blame it on Andrei?”

“You can, but is he just a scapegoat here?”

“No, I'm pretty sure he's the main problem here. God, I feel like I'm cursed just looking at him.”

“I mean, have you _seen_ him?”

Hungary smiles. “I don't know, have you seen yourself?”

Poland pretends to look shocked and gives an overdramatic gasp. “How dare you!”

“I know, I'm just the worst, aren't I?”

Poland sighs as he leans back in his chair. “So got any plans for this long-ass break?”

“Not really. I forgot my umbrella, so I'd rather not go out and come back in smelling like a wet dog or something.”

“Yikes Erz. I think this hotel has like a cafe or something along the lines of that. You could eat there if you wanted. That's going to be my plan at least.”

“Sounds interesting. Mind if I join you?”

Poland gets up and grabs his blazer from the back of his chair. “Erzébet, it would make my day if you would.”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes pass before the two of them return the conference room, now devoid of people. Glimpsing to a nearby window, it appears that the weather is taking a turn for the worse. The rain, previously a faint, ambient noise, now cascades off of the roof.

“I’ve got to admit it Feliks,” says Hungary, the two now back at Poland’s seat, “I’m glad I took you up on that offer.”

Seconds later, lightning careens across the sky, its light overtaking the room for a moment before plunging it back into its original state. Setting down both of their coffees, Poland responds, “I can only imagine why.”

The sky gives way to a crack of sound as if the earth itself is splitting apart, almost startling the two of them. They look at each other before giving a hearty laugh. Hungary takes a sip of her coffee, before continuing her conversation. “I think I’m going insane. Do you think I’m going insane?”

Poland observes for a moment, before replying, “Not that I can tell, why?”

“I just feel that there’s just this, voice or something, in my head saying I should snap for some reason, I don’t really know why, either.”

“Guess it must be a full moon, or whatever America says.” Hearing this causes a smirk on Hungary.

“Maybe you’re right. Just maybe.”

“Hey, he might be _slightly_ agitating, but at least he’s better than what I’m by right now.”

“Well in any case,” she gets up and walks past a minimum of ten chairs to two flags, which had a leaf and a multitude of stars respectively, “we can change that.”

Poland follows suit, getting the two neighboring flags next to him and walking them over to where Hungary once stood. The two cross paths, giving each other sly smiles before placing them down.

“Maybe,” Poland says, getting back to his seat and taking a bite of his croissant, “instead of voting on calling everyone superfluous names, maybe we should invest in nameplates.”

“Ah, yes. ‘The Representative of Hungary’ fits wonderfully on a nameplate.”

“Pfft, you know what I meant.”

Hungary realizes that her coffee supply has greatly depleted over the time she spent talking with Poland. _What time even is it?_ She thinks to herself.

Looking down at her phone, she alerts Poland, “We still have about an hour and twenty-five minutes left.”

Poland proceeds to make a disgusted scoff at that remark, “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish.”

Silence washes over the empty hall for a solid thirty seconds before Hungary pipes up and says, “Wanna fuck with people and move more flags around?”

“Hell yeah!”

* * *

 

A solid fifteen minutes pass before minorly adjusting a portion of the tiny flags of present nations around the room, knowing that if they move all of them someone would notice, they decide to only move some of them. They hit a minor snag early on, realizing that some people had left their briefcases and briefings, but were able to manage that situation.

Returning to Poland's seat, the two relent about the remaining time.

“Are you serious?” Poland grumbles, kicking his feet onto the table. “ _That_ was only fifteen minutes?”

Hungary follows suit. “Yeah, I know right? It just feels like time is dragging so hard right now. Has it actually been an hour or five years?”

“Who even decided to have our lunch breaks be two hours long?”

“I bet you, let's say, twenty złoty, that America, no, I’m sorry, the ‘Representative from The United States of America’ had something to do with that.”

“You see, in my opinion, that entire thing is bullshit.”

“Well,” Hungary motions to the center of the tables, “The floor is yours, Representative.”

Poland gets up from his seat and tries to jump over the table, but his foot gets caught on the edge, and he falls flat onto the floor. Hungary gasps and gets up.

“Feliks! Oh my God, are you okay?”

He gets up and pretends to dust himself off. “I’ve been through worse Erz, though I do think I kinda chipped a tooth or something. How do I look?” He flashes a toothy grin.

She leans in. “It’s worse than you thought.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you’re still ugly.”

“Ha ha, very funny, but seriously, is it chipped?”

“Sadly yes, that's going to take, what, an hour or so to heal?”

“Nah, I’m betting more along the lines of half an hour or fifteen til’.” Poland rubs the chipped tooth to sooth it. “But anyway.”

He walks to the center, pauses, and overly clears his throat.

“My dear nations of the world, or am I no longer allowed to call you that?”

A snort comes from Hungary.

“We have come here today to talk about all of our problems, what’s happening in the world and all about economics—”

“Actually,” Hungary adds, “my fair Rep, remember, we took economics out and Ger— or should I say the Western Representative of the Federal Republic of Germany and his co-host the Rep. of the Netherlands have their own joint economics meeting that only five people go to regularly.”

“Oh mercy me! How could I have forgotten that? Yes, thank you. We’ve come here to do all of that, but we need to talk about the important issues here, like how inconsistently we refer to people during meetings! We should hold a vote for that. I mean, last names getting butchered, not knowing whether to call them in their own language, what troubles we truly face here!”

Hungary raises her hand. “But what should we call ourselves?”

Poland overacts putting his hand on his chin. “Hmm, yes, truly what a predicament we’re in! We can’t let our fellow countrymen and women do whatever the hell we want, no, we need consistency! Let’s do it in English first of all, who needs other languages? And we should do our full nation names, that sounds almost perfect! But something’s missing, but what?”

Cupping her hands, Hungary imitates shouting, “Hey! Let’s add Representative in front of it!”

“Yes!” Poland points directly at her. “Absolutely perfect! Oh,” he goes into a different pitch, “But what if some of us are two people representing a single country?” He switches back to his normal voice. “Wonderful question! Let’s just add the cardinal directions before that, it’ll be perfect and won’t be an absolute time waster.”

Before Poland could continue, the main door abruptly swings open. The noise surprises them as they turn to face the door. A posh voice calls out, “Oh mercy me, did I startle you two?”

Immediately taking her feet off the table, she turns to face the nation, who she notices is England. “No, not at all. What are you doing here so early?”

“Ah, good, well, I could ask the same of you.”

Poland responds instead. “We never left, now answer her question, please.”

A smirk appears on England’s face as he walks towards the both of them. “Ha, I didn't expect that we were ‘spilling tea’ if you will.”

Poland tenses up, but loosens, mentioning, “Really, ‘spilling tea’? You couldn't be less creative?”

“What, referring to it as ‘spilling tea’, as well as ‘exchanging tea recipes’—”

Poland bursts into laughter walking back over to his table. “Are you _serious_ England? And you call yourself a writer?”

“Listen, do you want to know why I'm here or not?”

“Fine, explain yourself.”

“Well, first off, do you know where Alfred and Matthew were sitting at?”

“Actually,” Hungary motions with a smile, “they’re right here, flags and everything.”

“Brilliant. Second, can I buy your silence?”

“Depends,” Poland chimes in, “How much and why?”

“Alright, five hundred pounds, each.”

“Five hundred pounds,” Hungary stands up, “must be really weird or embarrassing if you would pay us _that_ much.”

“Well, you could consider it weird in some way,” he comments, pulling out two stacks of pounds sterling, “also, here’s yours and here’s yours.”

“I think,” Poland says looking down at the money he was handed, “I’m more concerned that you had that much money on your person.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would run into anyone here, so I brought it just in case.”

“Yeah, but why?” Hungary asks.

England's posture changes. “Oh, well you know…”

“No, no we don't, that's why we're asking here.” Poland retorts.

“Fine.” He almost snaps. “Those two can get on my nerves from time to time and before they step on my last one I want to get a head start on getting back at them. So I need a strand of their hair. You happy?”

“Honestly,” Poland says, getting over the table, “not the weirdest thing from you.”

Hungary turns her head to face Poland. “How is that not the weirdest thing?”

“Well,” England says, sealing up an airtight bag with the strands, “if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to figure out what to do with this remain hour and a half.”

England starts to leave as Poland calls out “I'm sorry did you say an hour and a half?”

England turns back. “Yes, along with the two hours, Alfred managed to secure another half hour of misery if you can recall. Lovely, really. I might catch up with you later Po—”

“Or, or, you could instead catch up with Timo, you haven't chatted or _had tea_ with him in a while, right?”

He smiles. “You're right Feliks, I will have to catch up with him, thanks, take care.”

And with that, there only remain two left in the meeting room. Hungary snickers.“We’re never going to tell him that wasn't where America or Canada were sitting, right?”

“Oh hell no, we're taking that to the fall of our nations.”

“Also, what's up with you, England and Finland having tea together?”

Ever so slightly tensing up, Poland simply states, “Oh, that's just an inside joke we have with each other.”

He glances at his phone before asking, “You doing anything this evening?”

She smiles, “Yes actually, speaking of Finland, I'm going to hang out with him and Esti tonight, why?”

He looks up while saying, “Man, I was going to invite you to join me, the two ‘love birds’, and Liet—”

Poland pauses and is almost agape in shock. Hungary looks at him in bemusement. “What?”

Hungary could barely make out the word “Hair.” from Poland. “Hair?” She briefly looks at it, seeing nothing wrong. “What about it?”

“Just that it looks good,” Poland quickly responds, “but it would look better with a scarf! Yes, I think I have one in my briefcase, just a second.”

Like a flash of light, he pulls out a scarf and drapes it around Hungary's neck. “Perfect! Just don't take that off, at all, in fact, you can keep it!”

“Thanks?”

“You know what? This might look better if you roll down your sleeves too.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“I care about you, and you’ll thank me later.”

“Fine.” She obliges with Poland’s wishes. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but just know, I’ll figure it out.”

“Good luck with that.”

* * *

 

Another fifteen minutes pass by before the two leave the meeting room and decide to walk around the hotel. “So Erz,” Poland poses as he hits the elevator button, “I never did ask, where are you staying?”

“The Carpați. It's a few blocks away from here. I didn't want to pay that much for a room so that's why I'm not staying here.”

“Cool. Liet, Slov and I are sharing a hostel halfway across town.”

“Ah, alright.”

The elevator opens as the two get on. “Which floor?”

“Well—” But before Hungary could continue, she breaks out into a coughing fit.

“Woah, are you alright?”

She tries to nod her head but the coughs become more intense. The elevator opens.

“Do you need water?” Poland asks anxiously, unable to receive a response. “I think there's a vending machine nearby, let's just get off here.”

With a sharp gasp, Hungary manages to get out, “I'm fine.”

Poland stares at her in disbelief. “Are… are you serious?”

“Yeah,” she catches her breath, “Why?”

A look of horror crosses Poland's face. “Because there is literally blood on your sleeve.”

Glancing down, her eyes confirm Poland's previous statement. A few splotches of red cover her once white sleeve. A wry smile comes on her face. “Oh, that? That's nothing major.”

“Nothing major? Isn't that a symptom of the fucking plague?”

“I think there are more symptoms than a bloody cough. Also, that drives home fifty times over how you never had the bubonic plague once in your life.”

“Hungary I'm being serious. You should go back to your hotel room and rest, alright?”

The elevator door closes as Poland hits the lobby floor.

“Fine, but I'm only doing that to get me out of the rest of the meeting. Speaking of which—” She hits the floor where the meeting was. “I'm gonna grab my stuff.”

“Go ahead, I'll walk you back.” 

* * *

The rain clears up before the two nations even reach the outside. The hum of the city fills the void as they walk out. “I'm going to be real here Erz,” Poland says, stopping in front of the Radisson Blu, “I have no idea where your hotel is located.”

A laugh comes from Hungary. “It's fine, the company is better.”

The two continue down the street

“It's sure gotten warm out.”

“Yeah, really wish I could take off my jacket but, you know, kind of hiding blood so.”

“Your hotel isn't that far away, is it?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“Well, this will be a long walk.”

“You got that right. As soon as I get there, I’ll take a five-hour nap, mark my words.”

“With pleasure.”

* * *

The sound of bells wakes Hungary up. Only she didn't remember getting here to fall asleep in the first place. It's not until she realizes what the alarm’s for that she's truly awake. Grabbing her phone, she hits a certain contact and waits for an answer.

_“Jaa?”_

“I am so sorry Estonia I was—”

_“Hungary, it's fine, Poland told us what happened. Besides, basically a fourth of the nations attending gave me their electronics to fix and Finland didn't want to go anywhere too expensive, so it worked out. If you want you can join our Skype call.”_

“That would be fine.”

_“Alright, nägemist.”_

As the call ends, she pulls out her laptop from her briefcase and logs in. She glanced at the time, 20:55. _Damn, it was longer than I imagined_ she thinks to herself.

Fully online, she sends Estonia a text, to which she receives a Skype call. She answers.

 _“Welcome, Welcome. Joining the land of the perpetually living?”_ Estonia greats, his image being split with Finland’s.

 _“Pfft,”_ Finland comments, _“don’t you mean the land of people merely subsisting from one moment to the next until someone fucks up and we finally die?”_

“I will drink to that Finny,” Hungary says, trying to hold back a snort.

_“Please tell me you brought vodka with you. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up with a Latvian coffee boost.”_

_“Seriously though,”_  Estonia says, closing a different laptop, _“how the hell does Lat stay awake with his fifty-fifty vodka and espresso shots? It's been driving me nuts since I found out he did that a few years ago.”_

 _“Still, that's healthier than whatever the hell Canada made,”_ Finland mentions.

_“I'm going to regret this but, what did he make?”_

_“I personally call it_ “The Insomnia Bomb” _, it contains 5-hour energy shots, Red Bull, and Dayquil. At least that's what he mentioned was in it.”_

“I'm not sure about Esti here, but that sounds awesome right now,” Hungary says, glancing at her phone. She sees a message from Poland and looks at it, briefly ignoring the two northern nations. It's an image of Poland himself, Czech, Slovakia, and Lithuania posing with the caption, “Having fun?”

She gets up and turns on a light. “Hey, you two, mind not being dorks and get in a photo with me?”

 _“It's pretty bold to assume that we'd stop being dorks, as you said, but fine.”_ One of the boys shouts.

She turns her phone camera around to face herself as she leans alongside her laptop. “Just act like you enjoy life or whatever.”

The two on the screen give various poses, and Hungary takes multiple photos. “Thanks, guys.”

_“No problem Hungary. So Finny, ever notice that—”_

The words fail to catch her ear as she sends one of the photos to Poland with the caption “Of Course.”

 _“— and that’s how I accidentally murdered Russia in 2014.”_ Finland finishes.

The last statement severely catches Hungary off guard. “I’m sorry, **what**?”

_“Yeah, Russia challenged me to a drink off and when I won he tried to claim I cheated, so I grabbed a nearby knife and stabbed him multiple times. I mean, he was drunk so hopefully, he doesn’t remember that.”_

_“Oh what I would give to stab Russia without him knowing,”_ Estonia sighs wistfully, _“I’ve only killed him a few times, and they weren't even in the twenty-first century. But hey, life’s life, right?”_

“Can’t fault you for that, Est.”

Hungary moves her laptop over to the nightstand as a sharp pain overcomes her, causing her to almost drop it.

 _“You alright?”_ Estonia inquires.

“Yup, yeah, just this migraine that’s been bothering me since this morning. Heh, maybe I could have used that ‘Insomnia Blast’ or whatever you called it Fin.”

 _“Listen, I enjoy jokes as much as the next person,”_ Finland explains, _“but maybe your first goal should be taking care of yourself right now.”_

 _“Said the guy who once stuck his hand in_ **_lava_ ** _just to see what it felt like.”_

_“Do as I Say, Martin, not as I do.”_

Hungary rummages through her bags to try and find where she placed her painkillers at. The pain is aggravated more and more with every passing second. Her search is futile, as she couldn't locate the pills. She shouts toward the laptop, “Hey, either one of you have any pain relief stuff?”

 _“Yeah actually,”_ Estonia remarks, _“What hotel room are you in?”_

“Carpați, room 204.”

_“Alright, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. You wanna come to Timo?”_

_“I've got nothing else to do,”_ Finland mentions nonchalantly, _“Why not?”_

“Thanks, guys.” She walks past a mirror to wait near the door before walking back to the mirror.

“What the—” Hungary manages to get out before a sharp pain makes her cry in anguish. She drops to the ground, her vision blurring. Every bone in her body feels like they're snapping in half. Everything's burning inside and out. The only things she can hear are someone shouting her name and a grotesque noise that she can't quite place, before feeling nothing.

* * *

_“You're a dick, I hope you realize that.”_

Romania laughs Bulgaria off. “Come on Kosta, you don't _really_ mean that, do you?”

_“You do a lot of dickish things, but that last thing you mentioned takes the cake.”_

Romania gives his phone the side eye, imagining it as Bulgaria instead. “Please, I made someone have bad luck, not murdered them and their loved ones.”

_“Whatever, it doesn't matter right now. Did you finally finish those reports?”_

“For which thing, the Assembly or for my side-gig?”

_“For your side-gig— of course, I mean the Assembly.”_

“Alright, alright. I jest, yes I got them done. A whopping total of thirty pages for only one person to read after me. Who the hell even knew that there would be a shitload of papers for a meeting that what, only fifty people went to?”

_“Hey, fifty’s a lot of people!”_

Bulgaria’s voice bounces off of Romania’s study. The earthy bricks of the basement create a certain aura of enigmas and of the odd. A bookcase to Romania’s left holds many books of magic, mystery, and misfortunes. The latter, as well as certain parts of the first two, pertains to some of Bulgaria’s paranormal novels that he'd started writing a few years ago. He picked up one of Bulgaria’s novels, and asks, “So Kosta, when do you think you’ll make another novel?”

 _“I’m glad you asked actually!”_ Bulgaria raves. _“I’m in the process of one at the moment, and I’m just about to head out to get some new material. Actually, do you know the time right now?”_

“Konstantin. You have a phone. You’re using it right now. Use that.”

_“No need to be rude Andrei. Also, it’s 21:25 if you want to know.”_

“I didn’t, but thanks anyway.”

 _“Also, another quick question, do you know where...”_ There’s a pause. _“Do you know where Luxembourg is staying?”_

“Listen, just because I’m hosting the meeting doesn’t mean I know where everyone’s at. Hell, I’m an hour away from Bucharest right now. I’m sorry about that.”

_“It’s fine, don’t worry. Also, by any chance did England mention where he was?”_

“No, the only thing he mentioned to me was to not call him after 22:00, which is odd but I don’t blame him.”

 _“Well then,”_ Bulgaria’s voice wavers slightly, _“that’s going to be a challenge then.”_

Before Romania could say anything else, his phone starts vibrating with another call. “Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back alright?”

_“Alright, talk to you later.”_

With that, the call ends and Romania answers the phone. “Alo?”

 _“Yo dude, I think someone on my floor broke a window or something.”_ A very, _American_ voice sounds through the phone.

“America, why are you calling me, shouldn’t you call the hotel itself?”

_“I panicked alright? Don’t you have those moments where you don’t know what to do so you do something dumb and stupid?”_

“I guess so. Also, just a quick reminder, you’re hosting the next Assembly of Nations in July, alright?”

_“Yup, I should get started on reservations and stuff. Thanks. Peace.”_

The line ends. When Romania is about to call Bulgaria back, he receives another call. With a sigh, he answers. “Alo?”

 _“This is you, right Romania?”_ It’s Russia.

Romania’s posture changes. “What do you want?”

_“I was staying at a hotel across the street from another, and I saw this black ball of, something crash through a window, and drop several stories. I didn’t know who to call, so I called you.”_

With a grimace scowl on his face, Romania responds, “If you want to report something, call your embassy or report it to the Romanian police. Thank you.”

Romania hangs up before Russia could even say another word. He finally calls back Bulgaria. “So, Russia fucking called.”

_“Yikes dude, what about?”_

“Well—” Romania is unable to continue talking though, as another person is trying to call him. “—Oh God Damnit! I’ll call you back.”

He picks up the call with some anger in his voice. “ **What**.”

He’s unable to distinguish what the person, or persons, are saying, as they’re doing so over top one another. “Please, one at a time.”

 _“Something tried to attack me, Czech and Uk—”_ A male voice tries to calmly explain.

 _“— We were just trying to walk home and I was chatting with Ukraine who we bumped into—”_ Another, more feminine voice, Czechia, Romania imagines, butts in.

 _“—And then this, oh what was it Rost’a?”_ Ukraine mentions.

_“It was like a giant—”_

“I’m sorry to interrupt you three,” Romania lies, “But please, calm down.”

 _“How come when Romania says it he doesn’t get slapped but when I tell you to do so I do?”_ Slovakia comments.

 _“It’s cause he’s not here in person, and you say it like an ass.”_ Czechia retorts.

“If you two are finished, I would like to tell you that you should call your individual embassies or the Romanian police. Then, the individual can be brought to justice, and the person can be arrested.”

 _“That’s the thing though,”_ Czechia says, _“It wasn’t human.”_

“I’m sorry, what?”

 _“She’s right,”_ Ukraine adds, _“It was more like a very large wolf, would you agree?”_

_“Yeah, but I mean, Slovakia got a better look at it, as it tried to attack Mikolas the longest out of all of us.”_

“Did you say a giant wolf?”

 _“Basically,”_ Slovakia gets out, _“If I had to estimate size, maybe two or so meters in height, matted black fur, and piercing eyes, I think either green or yellow. If it wasn’t for Maria or Rost’a, I probably would’ve been a carcass by now!”_

“I’m,” Romania tries to get his sentence straight, “I’m sorry to hear that, but maybe calling animal control or getting yourselves to a hospital would be the best options at the moment.”

He hears three separate thank yous and farewells before the call ends. He looks down at his phone, and briefly touches it. He grabs a nearby pen and a sticky note and writes “Be more positive.” on it before sticking it above his computer. Getting on his computer, he googles ‘how large are wolves?’ and waits. He hears movement upstairs and a younger voice yell down, “I’m leaving!”

“Stay safe Dumitru!” Romania yells up to Moldova, before hearing a door shut. Turning back to his computer, his result comes up to about half and almost a meter in height. Something didn’t add up, but then again, Slovakia could have been talking about length.

Romania gets up from his seat and walks over to an adjacent bookshelf containing information on animals, plants, and nature. He picks one up and flips to the index to search for wolves. Reading the section, he found the same answer: half a meter to a full meter. Shutting the book and placing back on the shelf, he decides to water his plants for the time being.

Before doing so, he calls back Bulgaria. “Alo Kosta.”

_“Hey! So, how was the call that you just took?”_

“It was, interesting. Slovakia almost died from a giant wolf as he said, along with Czechia and Ukraine.”

 _“Wait, you said Slovakia_ **_and_ ** _Czech? Hah! I was right, they are going on dates again!”_

“I just think they're good friends, I mean we're friends and we're not dating.”

_“True, but I don't think we formed one country for the both of us, now did we?”_

“That makes, no sense.”

_“Says the guy who does magic.”_

“You got me there. But I still stand by my point.”

After filling up a cup of water, he starts watering his several plants.

“You know what kinda pisses me off?”

_“Russia?”_

“Yes, but not the one I'm referring to.”

_“Hungary?”_

“That's the one!”

_“If it's about her not being there for the second half of the meeting, it's not her fault on purpose.”_

“Oh, yeah right, like she's _not_ the person to fake being sick.”

_“She coughed up blood Andrei.”_

“Do we have any evidence of that? I don't think so.”

_“Okay, now you're just being petty.”_

“Eh, so petty I'll be.”

Romania sets the cup down and picks up a small, leatherbound book and flips through some of the pages. “Hey Kosta, mind me asking what your book plot will be about? I forgot to ask that earlier.”

_“I don't really have a plot so far, I was planning on heading out in a few to formulate an idea. Once I have that, it's solid.”_

Romania tossed the book back onto his study desk. He comments, “Hey, do you think wolves can be over two meters or taller? As in height?”

_“Maybe, I don't know much about wolves or else I'd refute it. I'll have to write that down though, wolves. Might be an alright idea for something.”_

“Thank you anyway, and I'm glad I could help in the story department.”

Romania briefly looks out of the basement study window, the clear night shines through with the luminous glow of the full moon. “Hey, quick hypothetical. If I was to do magic after I finished up this call, what do you think I should do?”

_“You did mention yesterday you should practice more on protection or whatever, so maybe do that. Hypothetically.”_

“Alright, I'll consider that.”

_“Hey, not to cut this call short or anything but I'm gonna head out right now.”_

“Okay. Hope you come up with some ideas!”

_“Thank you, Andrei. And hey, just remember, don't be an ass.”_

“Fine.”

The call ends from there. Heading back over to his study section, he picks up the small book again and flips to the protection section of it. Before the actual spell, it gives a brief blurb of the spell that either he or someone else wrote previously. He glances at the bookshelf to his left grabs some other books in various shapes and sizes as well. Setting them on the desk, Romania finally sits back down and starts to read some of the books.

While reading and comparing the strength and intensity of the spells, he feels a nearby draft from the window. He gets up and shuts it. He notices a far-off figure in the distance, a deer perhaps. He keeps a close eye on it, noticing it moving closer and closer to the house at an indistinguishable speed. Quickly, Romania grabs his small leathery book and casts a forcefield of sorts. Trying to put his hands down, he notices the forcefield going down with them. He returns them to where they were before he hears the shattering of glass from the window.

A hulking, ink black canine attempts to claw its way in, grazing its paw over the shards of glass still in the frame, not once wincing.

Romania tries to simultaneously keep the field up and grab his phone, the latter being previously knocked off of the table. _Screw it_ , Romania thinks as he drops down to grab his phone and sets it on the table within arms reach.

The massive beast breaks off the frame of the window and attempts to fit itself through. Reaching for his phone off the table, he tries to call the only person he could think of. Two rings and one-fourth of a wolf through he got an answer.

_“Hallo?”_

“Thank God, hey Norway could you come to my house at this exact moment?” Romania manages to spit out.

 _“Why exactly?”_ Norway questions.

“It's an emergency. Can you teleport within about,” Romania looks at the forcefield, “about a meter and a half away from my exact position?”

He hears a sigh on the other side. “Fine, I'll see what I can do.”

The call ends as the wolf begins flailing its body around to fit inside, grunting and growling. A mini mantra repeats over in Romania's mind: _Don't die._

His luck turns for the better though, as a dark, violet aura starts manifesting within the forcefield. However, the person coming out of it walks directly into the forcefield. “Dude, what the—”

“My bad Luke, I should've mentioned that part,” Romania responds nonchalantly.

“Why would you,” Norway looks back at the direction he walked into to see a mammoth of a beast trying to get in. “What the _fuck_ Andrei?”

“I don't know, it just tried to break into my house, and I did the best I could to protect myself. Could you get England in here?”

“I will give me a second.”

Norway pulls out a relatively small notebook from his back pocket, flips to a certain page, and makes various hand gestures while muttering something, recreating the aura near the top of the forcefield. He moves his fingers down in a fast motion, causing England to fall from it.

“Bloody hell Norway, It's almost ten, please give me a proper warn—AH!” England says before the wolf frees itself from the window into the room, ramming itself into the forcefield. He shouts “Why is there wolf attacking us? What did you do?”

“I'll explain later!” Romina yells as he holds up the field, feeling the pressure as the wolf gnaws at it.  “In the meantime, can you make the same position I'm in?”

“I'm sorry, **what?”**

“Just do it!”

England begrudgingly obliges. Romania quickly pats him on the back. “Thanks for covering me.”

The forcefield remains up as Romania goes over to Norway. “Alright, I have a plan!”

“Jesus!” England exclaims. “Why is this so heavy?”

“Because it's taking on more than it's supposed to hold. Anyway, Norway,” Romania picks up the animal facts book he was reading before. “Can you see if there's any useful information in here?”

“Sure?” Norway takes the book. Romania himself grabs his own book and flips to a certain page.

“England, when I say now, I need you to lower the field, okay?”

England simply nods his head.

“Alright.” Romania starts to mutter an incantation and drops his book to form a flaming ball of fire in his hands. He can feel the heat burn up against his skin, but puts more pressure on the sphere. The fire becomes almost a blinding white light of pure energy, as Romania shouts “Now!”

The moment the forcefield comes down Romania forces the fire in the direction of the beast. The bright light and the fire engulfs the room. An agonizing growl soon turns to a whimper, and then, nothing. He throws the fireball out of his hands, as it dissipates. “Well,” Romania laughs, “that could've gone worse.”

“Now that that's over, what the hell did you do Andrei?” England asks, leaning against Romania’s desk exhausted.

“I was standing over near the window, and I saw something charge towards the window, and I panicked and created protection against it. Honestly.”

“Did you,” Norway interrogates, “or did you not do anything to provoke it?” He gestures over to the once standing wolf, now lying motionless.

A look of confusion crosses Romania’s face. “I just said it came toward me, I did _absolutely_ nothing wrong this time.”

Norway sighs. “I'm sorry then, I thought this might have been a repeat of ‘93.”

“Now that was entirely my fault. Oh the summer of 1993, how it'll forever live on in infamy.”

“Now,” England speaks up, “if you two are done reminiscing about the past, how are we going to get this thing out of here?”

Romania walks over to the remains and drops down to the level of it. “If I had to guess, this maybe weighs, let's say more than a hundred kilos. I might try to salvage some items from it. It is pretty charred though.”

“Shit,” Norway joins Romania as well, “you burned off an entire leg.”

“Eh, It's not like I do this every day.”

The two get back up and rejoin England. Romania starts to chuckle, “So England, I never asked, why do you look like the fifth member of The Killers?”

“I beg your pardon?” England spits out. “I'll have you know that The Killers are a fine band and their music is wonderful. And I didn't expect to fall from the floor this evening, and yet here we are.”

Norway starts to laugh aloud too. “God, you two sure are something. Also, Andrei, you dropped this earlier.” He hands him his pocketbook of spells.

“Thank you, Lukas, what would I have done without—”

The room falls dead silent as a booming growl interrupts Romania’s sentence. The three slowly turn their heads over to where the wolf was once lying before. If there's any physical evidence that it was previously harmed, they no longer exist, and the once scorched leg now slowly reconstructs itself. It still manages to balance itself with three legs as the fourth regenerates, as the wolf snarls and barks, trying to scope out its prey.

Milliseconds later after a bout of muttering a force field surrounds the three of them. Romania’s arms outspread, trying to keep a steady hold. “England,” Romania says, “take my book to see if there's any way to ends this, and Norway, you're good with animals, right?”

“No.” Norway blatantly states.

“Before you two start fighting, would you please notice the fact that it is doesn't matter and we're going to die?” England mentions, not even looking up from Romania’s spell book. “So we might as well get along, really.”

“Alright,” Romania sighs, “Do something you feel is useful.”

“Thanks?” Norway questions. It's at that moment the beast tries to come at the forcefield, scratching and trying to bite it open.

“You're right Arthur, this is a lot harder with something crushing you!” Romania coughs out.

“Wonderful you're realizing that _now_ of all times.” England comments.

“Do you,” Norway starts, “do you think this could be a werewolf?”

Before anyone could respond, the creature makes a slashing movement at the forcefield, causing it to rift open before reforming itself. “So,” Romania gives a pity laugh, “that's bad. Maybe?”

“Do you have any silver?”

“Yes let me just…” A hole in the forcefield opens as a box flies through it, almost hitting England in the head.

“Jesus Andrei!” England shouts, ducking out of the way.

“This is all the silver I have, I’m sure you’ll use it to your best ability, Lukas.”

Norway grabs a cutlass. “With pleasure.”

“I’m sorry, are you _literally_ throwing him to the wolf?” England looks up and gives Romania a look of disbelief.

“ _I_ _’m_ not doing anything Arthur,” Romania responds nonchalantly, “ _he’s_ doing it himself.”

“You’re _really_ putting him into the wolf’s mouth here.”

Romania ignores him. “Lukas, are you ready?”

Norway inhales sharply. “As I’ll ever be. Do it.”

An opening appears as Norway charges towards the massive wolf as he swings for the body with his sword. The wolf changes its attention to Norway as it lunges for him. Norway dodges right as he takes another swing at it. The sword must have pierced the skin as it gives a wail. He smiles. “Usually it's either you or Arthur doing the attacking, it's a nice change.”

The wolf starts to regain its standings, as it charges back towards him. He slides forward and tries to slice at the underside of the wolf. He only gets a portion cut as the wolf attempts to claw at him. Norway rolls out of the way, returning to his feet. He flanks the wolf and lodges the sword into its side in the process. The wolf briefly drops down. He tries to remove the sword, but it remains inserted.

The wolf rises back and makes a charge for Norway, as Norway tries to get back to the forcefield, which is a few meters away than previous. He slams his right arm on the forcefield and shouts, “Open this Ro!”

Before a reaction or response occurs within the forcefield, agonizing sensations course through Norway's left and feels he's being dragged away before England's hand grabs his right and starts pulling Norway towards him. A tension runs throughout Norway, as when he turns to his left, he sees the wolf clamping down on his left arm, trying to make him its new play toy.

The force on both sides soon becomes unbearable, as a single tear slips from Norway's eye. Finally, a sharp pain moves through his left as he's forcibly launched right. “Christ Lukas,” Romania manages to sputter out, “I'm so sorry, this is my fault.”

“It's not your fault, it would have happened to one of us eventually.” Norway coughs out.

“Do you have any medical supplies, Andrei?” England asks, removing his jacket to apply pressure on Norway's wound and to stop the bleeding.

“Yes, just a moment,” Romania responds. Not a moment later, a small metal box flies towards the forcefield and hits England in the back of the head.

“Thanks for the help.” He says sarcastically.

Romania laughs softly. “I would help more it's just that,” he motions with his head towards the wolf, now with a cutlass in its side, clawing vigorously at the forcefield.

“Yes, right. Well, Lukas, you're not dead.”

“That doesn't sound reassuring.” Norway coughs out.

“Yes, well, just don't try to get up. As for you Andrei.”

“Yes?” Romania faces the two.

“I have a hunch as to why this is happening. For starters, have you done anything to anyone in the past, let's say, three months or so?”

“That's a loaded question there Arthur. Let's see, is it in general or with magic or—”

“Magic.”

“Alright, that narrows it down a lot. Yeah, just Bulgaria and Hungary at that point.”

“You mentioned Hungary,” Norway points at Romania with his right hand, “What happened?”

“Nothing significant, just a bit of bad luck. And that was over a month ago, so it's not a big deal.”

“Wait.”  England interrupts. “Bad luck, as in luck that is bad. As in luck parentheses bad?”

“Yeah, did you get to that page in my book?”

England just stares. Disbelief glazes over his eyes. “Andrei I'm going to gut you.”

“What did I do?!?”

“Let me show you since you don't get it.”

“Get what?”

England walks over to him with Romania’s book, flipping to a certain page. “Here. Also, side question what the hell is your ordering system here?”

“Oh yeah I was trying to order them alphabetically but this is the page before I gave up on that. God, I need to reorganize this. Also, I don't see what the…” Romania’s eyes glance over to the next page on the right. A crude drawing and an increasingly familiar list of ingredients dot the page. “Oh.”

“I'm going to regret asking this,” Norway tries to stand up, “but what did he do?”

“Doesn't matter anymore, what matters is that he fixes it,” England says, circling the line of text with his fingers.

“And it's just a chant this time around, right? No ingredients at all?” Romania asks.

“That's what you've written down however long you've had this.”

Romania takes a deep breath in. A loud encompassing chant starts to fill the room. The chant increases in force, before erupting into a shout. The wolf on the other side starts convulsing before collapsing. After he finishes, Romania gasps for air. “Give me a second, let me get a blanket.”

He drops the forcefield down and rushes to his staircase. His feet blur up the steps as he grabs the nearest blanket from his living room. While coming down the stairs, he steps on the edge of the blanket, causing him to fall down the rest of the stairs. “Any help?”

“I think you've helped enough Andrei.” England sneers. Romania gets up and tosses the blanket on the considerably smaller wolf.

“So,” Norway asks, “when do you think she'll be back?”

“Who knows really.” Romania comments, dislodging the sword and tossing it aside. “It could be minutes, hours—”

“What the?” A groggy, feminine voice mumbles.

“Or seconds. Hide me.”

“Well Andrei,” England smirks, “you dug this grave, now lie in it.”

Quickly wrapping the blanket around her, the woman stands up and yells, “Where the fuck am I?”

“Hey there Erzébet.” Romania drags out. Hungary whips her head around.

“Romania I'm going to gouge your eyes out!”

“Woah, alright, there's no need for hostility. Let me explain.”

“Why the fuck are those two here? Is this a weird magic thing? Do I need to call Nata—”

“No!” England interrupts. “No, you do _not_ need to mention this to Belarus.”

She notices a darker patch in the blanket, coming from below her ribcage.  “I won't _if_ you tell me why I'm bleeding in a blanket in Romania's basement.”

“Well,” Romania starts, “What do you remember?”

“I was in my hotel room when my body started burning. Then I woke up here. Get on with it.”

“So, I was hanging out with these two back here, and there was this wolf. Nor, take it from there.”

“I'm good, thanks though,” Norway responds.

“What happened to your arm?” Hungary questions, gesturing to Norway's left, swaddled to a point with bandages.

“That’s not important. Ro, care to continue?”

“Uh, yes. You see,” Romania hangs on his words. “Well you see, Norway lost his hand. Defending a drunken you. From the wolf. England and I were also there.”

England and Norway’s eyes meet, giving each other the same glazed over look. Hungary responds “You do realize that's _the_ most bullshit answer you could give, right?”

“Yeah you're right that was a stretch.”

“Well, could someone get me back to my hotel room then since you're no help?”

“I can.” England steps up.

“Great, thank you.”

“Nor, could you hand me your book?”

Norway gives a hearty sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Oh shit, that’s right. Where is it?”

“Back left pocket.”

Grabbing the book from his pocket, England asks, “Your hotel and room?”

“The Carpați, 204.”

Romania pipes up. “Nice, the Carpați, lovely hotel.”

Hungary repeats what he says but in a more degrading and mocking tone.

“Hey!” Romania exclaims. “Don't think I won't get back at you for that.”

“Ha! Like you think you're the one in the clear. Trust me, I'll get you first.”

“If you two are finished,” England interrupts, “Hungary.” He alludes to a haze of dark green.

“Thanks, England, you're not as bad as I thought.” She says, walking through before disappearing from Romania’s basement.

“The hell did she mean by that?”

“Hey Arthur, are you staying at the Radisson Blu?” Norway inquires.

“Yes, why?”

“Because I have no other way of getting there other than the portal, and I need _both_ hands to do that.”

“Oh, yes, that's unfortunate. If only there was a way that this could have been avoided.”

Romania feels that all eyes are on him. “I know a simple sorry won't suffice, so, what do you want from me?”

“Preferably, my hand back, but that won't happen for a month or so, so it seems that we're at a stalemate.” Norway comments.

“Apparently so.”

“Actually, you mentioned about getting supplies. I am lacking in certain items that I'm sure you can get, right?”

“If it resembles an apology for you, then yes.”

“I'll get you a list tomorrow. Arthur, if you would.”

“Right,” England says as he starts the spell.

“Thanks. Ha det Andrei, ha det.”

The two leave, leaving Romania alone. He walks back over to his desk, which is an absolute wreck. He grabs the sticky note off the wall and looks at it. He sets it face down on the desk as he takes a look at his ravaged window and its broken frame.

He grabs another sticky note and jots down “Fix the window/frame” on it, before placing it on the wall over the computer. He stares back at the window, taking a moment to listen to the minuscule sounds of nature before heading back to work. 

* * *

The clouds move over the brisk dawn, setting a nice contrast from the warm soothing coffee Hungary is sipping on, as she listens to Czech's story. “So then what happened?”

“So as we were rushing Mikolás to the nearest hospital, you'd never guess who we ran into.” Czech sets up.

“Who?”

“Fin and Estonia! Yeah, they told us that they were trying to find your hotel because you were convulsing on the floor. Were you?”

“I guess? I can't remember a single event from last night. Maybe I was drunk. No, like I would actively mess up my migraine with alcohol.”

“You got a point there. So, you mention getting back at Romania, what's your plan?”

“No clue, but I have some pretty good ideas.”

“I can say cheers to that!”

Their conversation blends with the chatter of the cafe as the soft patter of rain hits the window, and yet, the surrounding city still moves on.


End file.
